


with a knife in the shape of your mouth

by TangramPieces



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: First Time, M/M, Secret Relationship, Stream of Consciousness, implied Derek/Owen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25944115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangramPieces/pseuds/TangramPieces
Summary: Mark Sloan had never even considered having sex with men before Jackson Avery.  Mark Sloan is the straightest guy in all of Seattle, if not the whole west coast.And then he walks into a supply closet to find Jackson Avery on his knees with some dermatology resident’s dick in his mouth, and everything changes.
Relationships: Jackson Avery/Mark Sloan
Comments: 22
Kudos: 145





	with a knife in the shape of your mouth

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in some vague, early season eight time frame, with some obvious divergence from canon.

Mark Sloan had never even considered having sex with men before Jackson Avery. 

He’d always been a skirt-chaser, jumping from one female’s bed to the next from the time he’d hit puberty. Hell, he went  _ through _ puberty side-by-side with Derek freaking Shepherd, if he was going to have a sexuality identity crisis, it should have happened years ago, back when he and Derek were teenagers joined at the hip. For fuck’s sake, Erica Hahn once asked if he and Derek were a couple, and even that hadn’t tripped anything in his brain other than a mild curiosity of why she might think that. Mark Sloan is the straightest guy in all of Seattle, if not the whole west coast. 

And then he walks into a supply closet to find Jackson Avery on his knees with some dermatology resident’s dick in his mouth, and everything changes. 

~~~

Jackson’s stressed, alright? Fifth year is  _ insane, _ just completely insane, and the chance to blow off some steam with a very handsome resident from the dermatology program is too good of an opportunity to pass up. It’s been a while since he’s been with a guy, but Avery’s not about to let that stop him, especially not when - Tyler? Taylor? Fuck it, he can’t remember and isn’t sure he cares to at the moment - just tugs his pants down as soon as the door to the supply closet shuts, goes to his knees and swallows Jackson down whole. He has to bite down hard on his lower lip to keep from moaning too loud, and he’d be embarrassed about his lack of stamina if he could have spared the brain cells for such a feeling. 

It doesn’t take him long at all to spill down maybe-Taylor’s throat, his fingers gripping tightly at his shoulder with one hand, the other shoved against his own mouth to help muffle any noises. Avery barely takes a moment to catch his own breath before switching their positions, going to his knees and licking up the underside of his partner’s cock before taking the whole thing in his mouth. 

Tyler groans before he catches himself, which has Jackson just a little smug - it only takes him a moment to adjust, all the tricks he’s learned coming back to him. He flicks his tongue teasingly over the head and then down along the sides, alternating between hard suction and quick bobs of his head, since time is really not on their side here. Pulling out all the stops, Jackson can feel the way the cock in his mouth gets harder, leaking across his tongue as Tayler gets closer–

The door opening abruptly has them both freezing. Jackson pulls back immediately, his companion trying desperately to pull up his pants. To make things even worse, the figure in the doorway is Sloan. Of all the people to have possibly caught him like this, Sloan is right up there at the top. He’s always come across as the kind of guy to randomly say something homophobic at the most inopportune time, though admittedly Avery hasn’t actually seen that happen yet. 

He feels like he might be about to learn though, the way Sloan stares for a moment before straightening. “Avery,” he says, calm and even cordial, and it sets Jackson’s teeth on edge. “Don’t forget we have that rhinoplasty at three.” 

With that, Sloan is gone, door shut again, and Jackson lets out an awkward laugh, cringing a little as he looks up at his partner, but his mind is nowhere near, too busy chasing Sloan down the hall and wondering how this will change things.

~~~

Mark holds it together all day. He’s perfectly polite, doesn’t say a word about what he saw, doesn’t acknowledge it in the least. The last thing he needs is for Avery to think he’s some sort of bigot, and Mark can’t figure out a polite way to say any of the things running through his mind. But when he gets home and collapses into his bed, he can’t stop himself from revisiting that moment, the singular glimpse he’d gotten of Avery, kneeling on the cold tile of a supply cabinet with a cock in his mouth and looking like there was no place he’d rather be. And just like that, Mark is hard, which is, just, random and  _ weird  _ \- why it’s happening, he doesn’t know, but he certainly feels it. He hasn’t gotten laid in longer than he wants to think about (who even is he, god, he barely recognizes himself some days), can’t remember the last time he masturbated that wasn’t just a perfunctory release in the shower. 

Then the image in his mind shifts, and it’s Jackson on his knees in front of  _ Mark, _ his mouth on Mark’s dick instead of some stupid dermatology resident. That thought alone is enough to have him twitching in the scrub pants he still hasn’t taken off. He groans, one hand dropping to his groin automatically, but instead of pressing down in an attempt to will his erection away, his fingers tease over the head as he imagines a mischievous sparkle in Avery’s bright eyes. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, but Mark does a lot of things he really shouldn’t, and no matter how many times those bad decisions have come back to bite him in the ass, he still hasn’t learned his lesson. Besides, he’s home alone, it’s not like anyone is ever going to  _ know. _ That’s what gives him the courage to kick off his pants, slide one hand into his boxers and give himself a leisurely sort of jerk. There’s lube in the drawer by the bed, untouched for months now, but he grabs it, messily coating his hand before taking hold himself more fully. It’s so easy to picture, Mark doesn’t even need a full-fledged fantasy - they’re alone together often enough that it could be almost anywhere, and from there things unfold behind his eyes without any real prompting. 

It isn’t until afterwards, when he’s laying on his back trying to catch his breath before the cum dries stickily all over him, that Mark feels a little guilty about it. Jackson’s his  _ student, _ and while that didn’t used to mean anything, Mark has been trying to be a better person, whatever the hell that actually is, and part of that is taking responsibility for teaching the kid everything he can. Not jacking off to the thought of doing filthy things with him. To him. 

This doesn't have to change anything. It’s probably just a one-off thing, a weird hormonal reaction to stress and an unprecedented streak of celibacy. Mark will take a shower, go the fuck to sleep, and when he wakes up, he’s not going to think about Jackson Avery in anything less than a completely professional manner.

~~~

It’s been a week and a half. Ten days since Sloan caught him in a (very) compromising position in a supply closet. And while Sloan hasn’t explicitly  _ said _ anything, Jackson knows he’s thinking about it. At first he’d thought it was just wishful thinking, but after the last couple of days of observation, he’s entirely certain that’s not the case. Pretty much every time Jackson opens his mouth to say something, Mark stares. It’s not entirely subtle, not every time. And given the look on his face, it’s not hard to figure out exactly what he’s thinking about. The whole thing gives Jackson a thrill, and he’s very interested to see exactly how far this might go. 

So he ups the ante, just a little bit. He catches sight of Mark sitting alone at the table in the cafeteria, and rushes through the lines for lunch to get his stuff as quickly as possible so he can join him. Sloan abandons his reading material in favor of talking to him, which is a minor victory in and of itself. Jackson gets him talking about an elective procedure they have scheduled for next week, asking questions he doesn’t really need to just to draw out the conversation. It’s almost too easy, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it any less. 

All the while, he watches Sloan watch him as he talks, sees the way his eyes track Jackson’s lips every time he takes a sip from his drink, playing with the straw just long enough to break Mark’s concentration a little before he pulls himself together again. Avery smirks a little, and doesn’t stop what he’s doing until they both get paged and have to run down to the emergency room to help with the next big trauma. But the gleam in Mark’s eyes stays with him all day, lurking behind his eyelids once he finally gets to go home, lay down, and pass out. 

~~~

On Thursday, four days later, Mark is in the locker room, halfway through changing, when Avery finds him. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the way Jackson looks at him out of the corner of his eye, and though he keeps up with Sloan’s questions and suggests the right tests and procedures, he doesn’t seem eager to leave, lingering briefly with a frivolous question about breakfast foods that draws the conversation out a few extra moments. Sloan is slow, deliberate in his motions the entire time, letting Jackson stare because it means he gets to stare in return. 

Jackson has always been gorgeous, Mark knows that, but he’s never imagined that the thought might be anything more than an aesthetic appreciation of a handsome face. He’s a plastic surgeon for fuck’s sake, he understands attractiveness, it’s a key factor in his job. But clinical observations about patients and their needs is entirely different than admiring the line of Avery’s jaw, the shape of his mouth, the way his eyelashes enhance his eyes to the point of absurdity. 

He comes back to himself, standing in the middle of the locker room, mostly dressed, with his dick half-hard and his mind stuck on the way Jackson’s shirt had been rucked up a little, and he’d been able to see just a few of the inches of his stomach, the very top of his v-cut. The heat in his gut feels like a warning that he’s going to be revisiting that image later. He’s already broken his promise to himself, the one about only having professional thoughts, since he’d been unable to resist the temptation after a particularly vivid dream the other night. And a few times since. Mark is not proud of himself, but he also can’t seem to stop. It’s a problem, and it’s only getting worse as time goes on. God only knows how this is going to change things, and all Mark can do is wait, be ready to deal with the fallout once it all comes to a head. 

~~~

Two more weeks go by like this, subtle flirtations and innuendos and not quite crossing the invisible line into actually doing something about the mutual attraction festering between them. And then on a slow Monday afternoon, Jackson hits his breaking point. 

They’re alone in the skills lab, taking a break from the perfection that Sloan demands when he’s teaching Avery something new. They’re not talking about the technique - not talking about surgery at all actually, and somehow Mark has gotten him monologuing, waxing philosophical about local coffee shops. 

“Are you actually listening to me?” Jackson asks, grinning just a little at the small nod that got him, but Sloan doesn't actually lift his eyes away from Jackson’s lips, so he continues more softly, “Or are you just picturing my mouth wrapped around your dick?”

Mark nods again, and then freezes, like he realizes what he just agreed to. Jackson smirks, victorious, and even as Mark’s eyes go wide, he’s moving in. Setting his hands on the older man’s waist, Jackson steps in close, enough that Mark can smell the remnants of soap clinging to his skin. 

“All you had to do was ask,” Avery whispers teasingly in Mark’s ear, nipping at the lobe before he drops down to his knees gracefully, opening Sloan’s pants as he goes. 

It’s nothing like the way Mark has pictured, and it’s a million times better for it. He stares, can’t stop staring, memorizing every tiny detail he can about each passing moment. Jackson is focused and determined, he recognizes those, but there is a mischievous gleam in his eyes that is even better than what Mark has imagined, as is the shudder it sends down his spine. 

Unsurprisingly, Mark is very familiar with being on the receiving end of a blowjob. But Jackson is something else entirely, right from the start - he swallows basically the full length of Mark’s dick in one smooth motion. Choking on his moan, Mark clutches at the counter behind him. He’s amazed to feel his knees trembling as Jackson sets a quick pace, sucking hard intermittently in a way that seems designed to drive Mark crazy. Another moan slips out of him, and he has to force his hips to stay still, instead of chasing the moist heat of Jackson’s mouth. 

He forces his eyes open (when did they even close, he wants to  _ see _ this) and looks down. When he does, Mark sees that Jackson has one hand down his own pants, and that’s hotter than it has any right to be. Before he even really knows what he’s doing, Mark is hauling Jackson to his feet and flipping them around, pressing the younger man back against the nearest counter. Dropping his face to the side of Avery’s neck, he nibbles his way down the long line of his throat as he pushes Jackson’s pants and boxers down, so there’s nothing left between them, just skin on skin. Mark spits in his hand inelegantly, but Jackson cannot bring himself to care, arching up into his grasp, his pulse frantic under Mark’s mouth. 

His cock is slick from Jackson’s mouth, and so they slide together easily. One of Jackson’s hands has found its way up under Mark’s shirt, and his nails are digging into the small of Mark’s back, leaving lines that are going to sting under the spray the next time he takes a shower. The other is halfway entwined with Mark’s, curled around both their lengths so tightly he can’t tell where he stops and Mark starts. Leaking with each pass of Mark’s thumb over the head of his dick, Jackson lets his head fall back, giving Mark more room to work with his mouth even as Jackson arches up against him, hips working together. 

With a breathy moan, Jackson says, “I’m so–” but before he can finish, Mark spills over their hands with a groan, which is more than enough for Jackson to follow suit immediately. His fingernails bite into Mark’s skin sharply, a quiet whine punching out of his throat from Mark biting down on his collarbone sharply as they ride out the last pulses of their mutual orgasm. 

It isn’t until he’s catching his breath and looking for Mark’s face that it occurs to Jackson to be worried that perhaps there will be a delayed bad reaction. But Mark is just staring,  _ still, _ a dopey grin on his face that Jackson can’t help but to mimic, a happy chuckle bubbling up out of his chest. They’re going to have so much fun, and Jackson can already see some of how things are going to change, thrilled for all of them, and all the possibilities that await. 

~~~

They fall into a new rhythm, as easily in sync here as they are in the operating room. They lock eyes across a table or a room or a hallway, and then they move perfectly in sync until they find a spot to steal a few minutes for themselves, just the two of them. 

Mark never tries to kiss him, and Jackson doesn’t initiate one no matter how badly he wants to. It seems to be Sloan’s line in the sand, so Avery can be patient, can wait for him to be ready for that. After all, it’s not like it’s a hardship to have Mark’s mouth on his neck or moaning softly in his ear. 

The first time Mark puts his ridiculous, sinful mouth on Jackson’s cock, it takes him completely by surprise. What he doesn’t have in experience, he makes up for with enthusiasm, apparently keeping track of the things that get Jackson to react and then working him over thoroughly. He’s a goddamn  _ tease _ , which Avery supposes he should have seen coming. Sloan leaves with a very self-satisfied smirk, courtesy of the blissed out expression on Jackson’s face and the fact that he needs a few minutes to pull himself together. 

Mark also leaves him with a bite mark on the inside of his thigh. It rubs just the wrong way when Jackson walks sometimes, but the sparkle Sloan gets in his eye whenever he twitches at the minor irritation is well worth it. 

~~~

It takes a while after Mark hears about him and Lexie (casual as it is) for the older man to come around again. To be fair, he also has a ton of other things on his mind, the new baby and Torres’ recovery. But then one day he overhears a decidedly male anesthesiologist making an innuendo at Jackson while discussing a patient, and less than an hour later, Avery finds himself being hustled into an on-call room. 

“I’m still not happy about the other thing,” Mark says, petulant, and Jackson has to laugh. Fuck, he’s missed this. He doesn’t let himself freak out over the thought, but he doesn’t linger on it either, pushing the whole thing aside to be considered later. For now, he’s on a mission, and he kind of wants to see if he can break his own record for how fast he can get Mark off. 

“Yeah, but you like me too much to hold it against me,” he retorts confidently, shoving Sloan back to sit on the bed. Jackson goes to his knees, directly between Mark’s thighs, and he wastes no time tugging at the tie on his scrub pants. 

Mark’s grip is just shy of painful, and Jackson abruptly wonders who else - if anyone - Sloan is sleeping with. He sucks a little harder, driven by the mere concept of not sharing Mark, of being the only one with the privilege of seeing him succumb to his pleasure. Under the circumstances, it might even be true, which is something to be considered when he’s not otherwise occupied. Blinking his eyes open, Jackson is a little surprised to see Mark staring down at him, his ears flushing with the unexpected attention. He redoubles his efforts, not quite able to handle Mark looking at him like that no matter how much he enjoys it. 

Usually, Jackson can’t tell how an encounter with Mark is going to end, but they almost always start with Avery on his knees (not always literally, sometimes they do manage to use a bed in an on call room). This time though, he can already tell Mark is too close to do anything other than come down his throat, and he moans softly around his mouthful. Trailing off to a hum that reverberates against the sensitive spot just under the head of Mark’s cock, Jackson is a little surprised to find that’s all it takes. Swallowing instinctively, he pulls off when Mark’s shudders turn sharp, that fine edge right before overstimulation.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds Mark still staring down at him, that same dopey, blissed out grin of the first time. Jackson grins as Mark tries to catch his breath, which turns into a laugh as he’s hauled up onto the bed. He stops laughing as Mark coaxes his pants down, and then he’s too busy arching up against Mark’s mouth to do much more than hold back his moans as he gets taken apart. It’s over almost embarrassingly quickly, except that Jackson can’t bring himself to care about that, not in the face of getting to have this again at all. 

They lie in the tiny on-call bed together, afterwards, skin cooling and their breathing returning to normal. Jackson wonders, briefly, if this is what it would be like, in the event that they ever get to see one another outside of the hospital. 

“Is it - is this, can we still-?” Mark stutters into the comfortable silence between them, and it’s unusual to see him so obviously uncertain. Jackson nods immediately - he’d give up seeing Lexie in a heartbeat if it was going to cause friction with Mark.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Jackson retorts, smiling as Mark relaxes somewhat. It’s probably a good thing that his pager goes off then, before they can get into an awkward conversation Avery is sure Sloan doesn’t want to have. 

~~~

Jackson can’t imagine anything  _ worse _ than his mother coming not only to Seattle, but to the hospital he works at. It’s embarrassing, even before the whole ‘first penis transplant’ thing, and he’d really wished that he could have just sunken down all the way to the floor instead of having to listen to her. At least Lexie isn’t here, which is a perfect red herring so his mom doesn’t look too closely at any of his other relationships. Catherine has always acted like bisexuality is a phase he’ll grow out of, but that doesn’t stop her from being just as ruthless to the boys he’s brought home as she had been to the girls. 

He’s tired, and his mom always throws him off his game, just a little, which is the only excuse Jackson can give himself for letting it slip about Mark being his mentor. That’s a whole different shitstorm just waiting to happen, he knows it, and he’s resigned to having to deal with that, knowing his mother won’t just let it go. That’s not how she is. 

Sloan himself is… Jackson doesn’t even know. He’s gotten used to Mark being weird sometimes, but this is bizarre even for him. He smacks Avery’s ass in full view of everyone before herding him into the skills lab for a competition he is only doing at Mark’s behest anyway. He defends Jackson, in  _ public _ . To his  _ mother _ . 

That, really, might be the thing that gets him so wound up. Jackson’s relationship with his mom is… complicated, to say the least. And in the face of Mark’s open, honest approval, it’s hard to feel anything but proud, even if his mother doesn’t understand him. The warm feeling in his chest stays with him all day, enough to keep him centered in the chaos that develops around them all. 

~~~

After everything, He goes out for drinks with his mom and April, because it’s expected. The Lexie distraction works great, and Catherine Avery doesn’t suspect a thing. It doesn’t even occur to her that there might be going on with her son and Mark Sloan beyond a mentor-mentee relationship, which is exactly what Jackson was going for. 

Once they’ve had their drinks and conversation, Jackson drops his mom off at her hotel, because he is a dutiful son no matter how crazy she makes him sometimes. With that particular obligation taken care of, he drives aimlessly for a while. He’s not surprised that he winds up near Sloan’s apartment. Even if he hadn’t consciously made the decision to come here, he can’t seem to ever stay away. 

Jackson still isn’t sure exactly what prompted the difference in Mark’s behavior today, but he wants to do things differently in return. Ever since that first time, when Avery had initiated, it’s always been Sloan coming to him. And while Jackson has always respected that, letting Mark dictate the terms of their encounters, tonight feels like a good time to see if his patience and faith in where they’ve been headed all this time has paid off. 

“Do you have company?” Jackson asks when Mark opens the door, furthering the confused line of the older man’s eyebrows. 

“Just the baby, and she’s sleeping, why, did something–” Mark says, but he’s cut off by Jackson pushing his way into the apartment, into Mark’s space and claiming his mouth fiercely. 

He kisses Mark like he’s wanted to for weeks, deep and hard and demanding, desire overriding everything else. He gets swept up in it, lets himself get lost in sensation. 

Mark kisses like the fucking sex god he’s rumored to be. It takes him a moment to get with the program, but then he’s tracing Jackson’s tongue with his own, his teeth teasing at Jackson’s lower lip as they break for air but don’t pull apart. Jackson is a little dizzy, blown away in the absolute best way possible. 

“Want you to fuck me,” Jackson says against Mark’s lips, a quiet admission for his ears alone. He pulls back just enough to warily look at Mark’s face for a reaction, and the stunned expression there has him worried for half a second. 

“I, uh, are you - really?” Mark stutters, which isn’t disgust or rejection at all, and Jackson grins, victoriously smug, especially when Mark pulls him by his belt loops. 

“Really,” he says, beaming as his hands start to wander, determined to ensure Mark doesn’t regret this decision. “Show me your bedroom. ”

~~~

Mark isn’t entirely sure how they got here - isn’t actually sure he’s not dreaming this entire thing - and honestly, he’s a little overwhelmed. He’s in his own bed, completely naked, propped up against his headboard with an equally naked Jackson Avery in his lap. For all the sex he’s had in his life, Mark doesn’t remember ever been more turned on than he is right now, watching Jackson finger himself open. 

With a jolt he remembers that he’s not actually a blushing virgin, and even if he hasn’t been with a guy before, he knows enough to be able to help with his part. He sits up a little straighter, slicking his own fingers and watching the sparkle in Jackson’s eyes as he slides one into him. 

“Oh, fuck,” the younger man breathes out around a grin, grinding down against Mark’s hand. “Yes, just like that,” Jackson says, his hole fluttering around Mark’s fingers. His cock twitches, and from the way Jackson laughs, smugly pleased, he feels it. 

“God, you’re gonna feel so good inside me,” Jackson says, and Mark’s brain whites out for a moment, just from that statement alone. “Been thinking about this for  _ years _ , fuck, c’mon, Mark, gimme some more,” he babbles, a hint of a plea in his tone that Mark finds himself helpless against. He adds a second finger, staring up at Jackson’s face as he stretches the younger man open, cataloging each expression his ministrations get him. Jackson had made some definite progress, it would seem, and Mark can scissor them easily enough, so he inserts a third digit carefully. The groan it earns him sends a shudder down his spine, and Mark lets out one of his own as he feels Jackson relax around his fingers. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, entranced with watching where he disappears inside Jackson. He hears the younger man laugh, breathily, before Avery is taking control again, sliding a condom onto Mark’s dick and positioning them both to his liking before he starts sinking down, and the feeling of Jackson’s body accepting him inside is unlike anything Mark has ever felt. 

And then suddenly, he’s buried to the hilt in Jackson, and it punches the last dredges of air out of his lungs with a moan. He manages to drag in a shaky breath, before his mouth is occupied with kissing Jackson once more. It’s a task that requires all of his attention and focus, one that Mark is more interested in than anything else, no matter how amazing the younger man feels around his cock, hot and tight and contracting as he relaxes. But even that sensation is secondary to kissing Jackson, saying all the things he doesn’t have words for and hoping he can make himself understood this way instead. 

Jackson tastes mostly like peppermint, the ones that Joe keeps in little bowls on the bar, with a hint of some kind of sweet liqueur underneath it. Mark feels even more breathless with that knowledge, on top of all the sensations that have him panting. He’s dreamed about kissing Avery for almost as long as he’s thought about having his pretty mouth on Sloan’s cock. And it's better than he’s ever dreamed of, so that, more than anything, is what has really turned Mark’s whole world upside. 

Even when Jackson starts to move, rocking gently in his lap and adjusting his movements experimentally, Mark can’t stop kissing him. His hands tighten unthinkingly on Jackson’s waist, helping him keep his rhythm once he finds it. Eventually, Jackson rips his mouth away so he can throw his head back with a moan, breathing in harsh, panting heaves. Mark is unsurprised to find that Jackson is even more beautiful like this, and he watches dazedly for a few long moments. Before long he’s thrusting up in perfect counterpoint to Jackson’s hips rising and falling, and Mark tries to memorize as much as he can about the moment, knowing he’s going to want to revisit this again and again. 

As happy as he would be to stay exactly like this for the rest of their lives, Mark can feel himself getting closer to that edge with every second. But he’ll be damned if he’s going over it alone, and that thought spurns him into action, one hand unlocking from Jackson’s hip to come down. Wrapping around his dick - which is, by now, a familiar sensation even if everything else is new - Mark strokes him not slowly, but not in pace with his thrusts either, reveling in the way the action has Jackson leaking even more. He tightens his grip minutely, fucks up into Jackson harder, trying to drive the younger man out of his mind with pleasure. 

Honestly, he’s a little surprised when it works, and Jackson comes over both of them with a loud moan. The way he clamps down around Mark’s cock when he does is all he needs to follow suit, and for a few long moments they’re frozen against one another like that, breathing the same air as they try to catch their breath. 

It’s only once Jackson is lying on the pillow next to him, saying, “Should I–” that Mark realizes he should start thinking about what changes now, what comes next. 

“Stay,” Mark interrupts. “You should stay.”

~~~

In the morning, after Jackson gets called in before the crack of dawn by Bailey, Mark gets Sofia ready for the day and drops her with Arizona. He goes through the routines on autopilot, his brain still stuck on last night, reliving the memories even as he wonders about if he’s going to be able to do it again, or if in the light of sat, Avery is going to come to the realization that he really shouldn’t be sleeping Sloan, of all people. 

He could talk to Callie - he walked her through a sexual identity  _ thing _ (Callie didn’t have a crisis, and Mark might be but he’s not about to call it that), the least she could do is return the favor. But in the end, he goes to Derek. He always goes to Derek, in the end. It's been a universal truth since childhood. The drive up to where Derek is building his and Meredith’s dream house is peaceful, but it does nothing for Mark’s racing thoughts. 

He’s not expecting Hunt to be there. It makes him even more tense, stepping up to the frame of the house to find them hammering in silent companionship. Mark would have been jealous about that, years ago when he’d wanted to horde Derek’s friendship for himself, scared to share him because then Derek might have realized how utterly terrible Mark was and left him behind in the dust. 

Mark knows better now, though. He might be awful, but even if he wasn’t trying to get better, Derek wouldn’t abandon him, not now, not after everything. They survived the Addison debalacle, surely they can get through anything else. 

He gets through an excruciating round of small talk, before he asks, a bit more desperately than intended, “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Give us a minute,” Derek says to Owen gently, drawing Mark away, sitting him down on what will become the back porch. “What’s going on, buddy?”

The words get stuck in his throat. It’s not shame that holds him back, but privacy - Jackson is someone precious, someone to be cherished, and if he didn’t need to talk about it, he would keep the secret of him locked away forever. Mark swallows, clears his throat. Lifts his eyes to meet Derek’s, and already his friend is making the concerned, frowny face he gets when he doesn’t know what’s wrong. 

“I had sex with Jackson,” Mark whispers, still a little in awe that it actually happened, as if he hasn’t spent hours replaying the entire night in his head, even the part where he watched Jackson sleep, passed out on the next pillow over in Mark’s bed, which he feels no shame over, no matter how creepy it sounds. 

“Jackson? Who the hell is Jackson?” Derek asks, and Mark realizes two things simultaneously - first, his hands are shaking, and second, Derek thinks it’s a last name, some female he’s never met or paid enough attention to. It feels like this is the moment, right before things change forever, the silence weighted heavily between them. 

“Avery,” Mark says, still quiet as a mouse, pressing his hands to his face so he doesn’t have to see the inevitable shock on Derek’s face. Doesn’t want to know if he’s disgusted with him - unlikely, that’s not how Derek is, but this whole thing has Mark twisted up and around and inside out, and he doesn’t know that he’s ever felt like more of a disaster than he does right now. 

“Jackson… Avery. As in, your protégée, Jackson Avery,” Derek asks, quiet and soft like Mark is going to be spooked away if he isn’t careful. Hell, that’s possible, Mark does have a history of running away from things that scare him. 

“Yeah,” Mark confirms, risking a glance up at Derek’s face. It’s a relief to find him smiling softly, one hand coming up to rest on Mark’s shoulder. 

“You look like you need a beer,” Derek says, like it’s not eleven o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday, pulling a strangled laugh from Mark’s chest, and he’s certain he came to the right place. 

~~~

At first, Derek is very concerned. Mark’s demeanor is unusual, and he’s more spooked than when Betty Larson started a rumor in tenth grade that Mark had gotten her pregnant. And then all the pieces slide together and Derek has the whole picture, can pick it apart better than any brain scan. He’s known Mark most of their lives, knows him better than he knows himself - and he knows the way Mark’s mind works better than Mark does. Listening to everything he’s saying - and everything he’s not - Derek sees where this is going, and, as always, it’s his job to guide Mark back to reality, instead of whatever nonsense he’s built up in his head. Derek doesn’t mind. It’s kind of nice, actually, that Mark’s problems are knots he can always cut right through. 

He lets Mark talk, watches the way he tears at the paper label on the beer bottle the way he always does, absorbs all of the information even as his mind wanders over to Owen. Owen, who is on the other side of the yard, leaning back against his truck, oblivious to Derek’s gaze on him. He’s wiping the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt, exposing the lean muscles of his stomach, and Derek remembers tracing them with his fingertips, even gentler with his touch than he was with his words. Briefly, he wonders what Mark will say when he tells him they have this in common too. Not now - Mark’s not ready for that, not when he’s still panicking about driving Jackson away - but someday, when they’re both in a better place. 

He hasn’t mentioned Lexie in weeks. That tells Derek a lot, in and of itself. Sometimes Derek can point these things out to him, and sometimes it’s best to just let Mark come to his own conclusions. By now, Derek is a good judge of which situations need which method, and fortunately, Mark is already well on his way to figuring it out for himself. All he needs is a couple of loaded questions from Derek, and the hammer will drop as Mark connects the dots. 

There’s a lull, finally, when Mark gets out everything running through his head, and Derek knows him well enough to know that means he doesn’t have anything else ruminating. He considers his words for a few moments, not even long enough for the silence to fully settle. 

“Mark, if it was the gay-sex-thing freaking you out, wouldn’t you have told me weeks ago? Back when it happened the first time?” Derek asks, giving him a significant look over the top of his bottle. 

There’s a part of Mark that wants to protest that this  _ was _ the first time, but he knows what Derek means - and more than that, he knows Derek is right. He’s not freaked about the sex - homosexual and mind-blowing as it might have - but he is worried that Jackson is going to regret having crossed that particular line, that everything they’ve built together is going to fall apart. 

“Just, talk to him,” Derek says, before Mark can spiral any further. He takes a deep breath, and nods, since Derek is right - things have already changed, now he just has to understand how, and how to move forward. 

~~~

Jackson doesn’t let himself panic when Mark doesn’t show up to the hospital the next day. He knew going into it that there would be consequences to his actions, and a little bit of avoidance is pretty par for the course, it feels like. So he goes to work, gets his ass thoroughly handed to him by Bailey, 

Lexie calls in the afternoon, and Jackson briefly wonders if Sloan told her and now she’s going to yell at him, but all she says is she’ll be gone a few extra days. They have a boring, polite conversation that isn’t deep at all, and Avery hangs up feeling weirdly relieved that he won’t have to deal with that for a while longer. 

On his way out, overhears that Sloan won’t be in, they want a consult out at Seattle Pres, which means there is definitely no chance of Jackson seeing Mark tonight. 

So when April says, “Let’s get drunk,” sitting on the couch with a bottle of some liquor, he can’t find a good reason to turn her down. He sits down on the other side of the couch, holding out his hand for the bottle. This is their ritual, if it’s just the two of them drinking at home - pass the bottle back and forth til it’s gone, or they can’t drink anymore. 

April chatters for a while, because that’s how April is, but it’s a comforting sound by now, and he doesn’t really need to listen to her babble to respond appropriately - she says more with her tone than she ever does with her words. Eventually she runs her course, and usually this is where it would be Jackson’s turn to talk. But there’s only one thing running through his mind at the moment, and he just knows that if he opens his open, it’s going to come out. So he waits just a bit longer, gathering his courage for whatever Kepner’s reaction is. 

“I slept with Sloan,” Avery says into the silence, and then laughs at the absurdity of it. 

April sits straight up and stares at him with wide eyes. There’s a little bit of shock there, and she doesn’t take long to collect herself enough to ask, “Slept with like, fell asleep in the same place after a particularly long day, or. Like… colloquially speaking, slept with – you had sex with Mark Sloan!” she’s squeaking by the end, and she looks positively scandalized, but she’s hitting him with a throw pillow, so it’s fine.

“Yeah,” Jackson sighs. “And he called out of work today, so he’s probably avoiding me.” Temporarily, at least. He’s pretty sure that Mark will come around. He probably just needs some time to get his head around things, needs to adjust his view of himself and the world. Avery has seen this song and dance before, has slept with closested guys, and really, this is better than getting punched in the face. 

Mark is not going to do that, Jackson believes wholeheartedly. He just has to keep the faith, hold steady and stay on course, and things will work out. After all, he couldn’t stay away even when the Lexie thing came to light, which feels like a big deal. 

“So, tell me about it,” April prompts, one eyebrow arching up. “It’s obviously bothering you, not talking about it.”

“I do not think your virgin brain is prepared to hear about the various ways I’ve had sex with another guy,” Jackson snorts, amused and fond. 

April glares at him, takes a swig from the bottle, and says, “Try me.”

So he does. He tells her everything, from being walked in on, to jumping Mark in the skills lab, to the disastrous decision of dragging him to bed. April listens, without judgement, and the questions she does ask aren’t invasive. He does have to admit to the Lexie ruse and misguiding his mother, which he’s not proud of, but April doesn’t seem to care. Maybe because she’s focusing on the bigger picture. 

“I mean, neither of you can really get in trouble for it, there’s way too much precedent for attendings sleeping with residents,” she says. “And if you do, there’s an argument for discrimination, that you’re being singled out because it’s a homosexual relationship instead of a heterosexual one.”

He just hums, not quite an agreement, and steals the bottle back from her. “I think you might be getting a little ahead of things there,” Jackson says before he takes another sip. “But I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

~~~

People forget that Mark is actually, compared to the majority of the population, a very smart guy. It’s just when he’s surrounded by people of the same caliber that he sometimes falls behind - e.g., Derek Shepherd, as always - but usually that doesn’t bother him. Mark likes being a dark horse, likes flipping the tables on the people who underestimate him. And he’s very good at research - he’s not Lexie, with her impeccable memory (it startles him, the knowledge that it no longer hurts to think of her), but he’s good - and when he’s interested in something, his researching skills get even better. 

Jackson always blows his mind, gets him so turned on he goes a little crazy with it, and Mark really,  _ really _ wants to repay the favor. So, he researches. Well, that’s what he calls it, because it makes him feel a little less skeevy about all the porn he’s suddenly watching. The internet is an amazing thing, truly, and it gives him plenty of ideas - not all of which he is quite confident to try just yet, but there are a few things that really catch his eye, so he waits for an opportune moment. 

It comes after a long day, and he manages to catch Jackson fresh from the shower, coaxing him home with Mark by way of promises of great food and at least a couple of spectacular orgasms. Avery teases, playful, but agrees, following Mark back to the apartment. As much as he loves Sofia, he’s glad that Callie and Arizona have her tonight, grateful for the chance to have some uninterrupted, quality time with Jackson. It’s more than they’ve ever had before, and Mark doesn’t want to waste it. He has  _ plans _ , and he’s going to do his damndest to see them through.

~~~

If this is how Mark Sloan seduces people, Jackson can absolutely see where he gets his reputation, not that he ever really doubted it. Even though he’s pretty much a guaranteed thing, Mark still pulls out all the stops - cooks him a fancy dinner, feeds him desert, and then reminds him about the filthy promise he’d made right before they left the hospital. 

Jackson hears the words echo through his head as Mark stalks towards him.  _ “Gonna work you open with my mouth, get you to cum at least once before I even get my cock in you,” _ Mark had murmured, directly into his ear right before they’d stepped onto the full elevator. 

“You’re in rare form tonight,” Jackson feels the need to point out as they migrate towards the bedroom without taking their hands off each other. His hands slide up under Mark’s shirt, fingertips trailing across the plains of his stomach up to his chest. 

“Are you complaining?” Mark asks as he pushes Jackson’s shirt up, large hands skimming over his sides. 

“No, no, not all,” Jackson is quick to say, lest Mark  _ stop _ . He is surprised, but not complaining - getting rimmed is one of his favorite things, and it invariably turns him into a needy mess. Mark doesn’t know that, at least not from personal experience, not yet, and Jackson’s ears flush with premature embarrassment as much as anticipation. 

Of all the ways they could have gone, after Jackson showed up and pushed his way into Mark’s bed, this is the one he’d secretly been hoping for. Everything and everyone else takes a step back, when he’s here in Mark’s bed, 

By the time they finish, Jackson has come three times, and his body feels exhausted in all the right ways. He can hardly move, barely flinches when Mark cleans them up carefully, and he sighs contentedly when the blanket comes up to cover them both. 

“Love you,” Jackson whispers, mostly asleep, and he can’t even open his eyes to see if Mark is going to take that badly. It’s quiet for a long moment, and he considers the possibility that Mark didn’t hear him. 

He can’t be certain he’s not dreaming, but he smiles nonetheless when he hears, “Yeah, I think I love you too.”

~~~

Lexie comes back long enough to pack her bags and to say she’s not coming back. She’s going to go be close with her other sister, something about needing the stability of that relationship, about not being able to stay here any longer. Even Meredith can’t convince her, not even to reconsider. Avery can’t blame her. He wouldn’t turn down an offer from Oxford either. 

It changes things less than he would have thought. In fact, he barely notices her absence, and in a turn of events Jackson didn’t see coming, Sloan acts like he doesn’t notice it either. Avery could have sworn he was still carrying a torch for Lexie, even confident as he is that Mark feels the same connection between them that he does, the way they’re drawn to one another all the time. He’s not upset that that doesn’t seem to be the case, not by a long shot. 

For his part, Mark is surprised by how little things change, in the day-to-day sense. He still gets Avery by his side through surgeries, teaching him to the best of his abilities, fiercely proud every time Jackson masters something new. But now sometimes, in the evenings when he’s getting ready to leave, Mark gets to have Jackson by his side as they get on the elevators and head out to the parking lot. Gets to have him sitting across the counter in the kitchen, grinning as he eats whatever Mark has cooked for dinner, and later, naked in Mark’s bed, making the small, pleased noises that Mark wants to hear every single chance he can get. 

It can’t last, Mark knows, not as things are - for all the physical affection he shows Jackson behind closed doors, he’s not quite ready to do it in public. And while Avery says that’s fine, that they can move at Sloan’s pace, he can see how it’s starting to eat at him, the lies about where he’s spending the night or what he’s doing after work. So he sets himself a new task, of figuring out how to drag this whole thing out into the light. A way to give Jackson everything he deserves. 

~~~

They’re walking through the atrium, doctors and nurses and patients and visitors all wandering around nearby, when Sloan says something completely unexpected in response to Avery’s blatant teasing. 

“I will kiss you in front of God and everyone in this hospital,” Mark says, grinning happily, but there’s an undercurrent of promise, and Jackson is so startled by the sheer honesty in that statement that he stops up short. 

He stares at Mark, who has taken a couple more steps before stopping, and Jackson can’t help the way his mouth is definitely hanging open idiotically. “What?” he asks, and he means for it to come out sharp, like a demand, but it’s a breathless question. Mark cocks his head to the side, like he’s studying Jackson. 

“If you don’t want me to, now is when you need to say something,” Mark warns, and there’s a roughness in his voice reminiscent of how he sounds when he’s buried inside Jackson as deep as he can, and the memory makes Jackson’s knees tremble just a little. 

“No protests here,” he manages weakly, and he catches Mark’s sharp smirk just before he’s being kissed within an inch of his life. One of Jackson’s hands come up, fingers clenched in the center of Mark's shirt to hold him close. He vaguely becomes aware of a wolf-whistle that is almost certainly aimed at them, and feels both his ears and cheekbones flush. Jackson’s beaming too when they part, and he looks up at Mark through his eyelashes. 

Everything is going to change, again. But by now, Jackson is confident that it can only get better from here.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Gavin DeGraw's [Belief](https://youtu.be/Gc_q94GL9Q0), which was inspirational enough for me to listen to on repeat while writing this.


End file.
